Blizzard (BearPaw Resort #2)

by Cambria Hebert

  He was dead.

  Riddled with bullet holes.

  Eyes wide open, glassy and empty. Blood everywhere. On him. On me. All over this house.

  It wasn’t good enough. It would never be good enough. I lunged for the gun again, a cry ripping from my throat.

  “No.” Liam’s voice wrapped around me, reminding me there was more than just thick silence.

  I glanced over at him, taking in his jaw, his scruff, and the hair falling into his eyes. “Liam?”

  “He’s dead, sweetheart. You killed him.”

  “I killed him,” I repeated.

  He nodded.

  I collapsed against him, and it was as if the world resumed in fast-forward around us.

  I gasped, pulling out of his arms. “Ren!”

  “He’s being taken to the hospital. We’ve got to go,” Liam replied, gently wrapping an arm around me. He handed the gun off to an officer standing by warily.

  “She needs to come with us,” he said, taking the weapon I’d used to kill Spidey.

  “She’s coming with me, and if you don’t want a scene and a lawsuit that will shut your precinct down, you won’t get in my way,” Liam intoned, and I shivered. “Call the police chief and have him meet me at the hospital. Call Agent Frost of the FBI, too.”

  I don’t know if the officer replied, but the next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the back of an ambulance, my eyes fastened on the pallid face of Renshaw Mattison as the paramedics worked to save his life.

  Shivers wouldn’t leave me be. My entire body shook and trembled, no matter how many scratchy blankets they put around me.

  The second we got to the hospital, we were forced apart. Liam had to get stitches, Ren went into emergency surgery, and I… They said I was in shock.

  Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t.

  I was clearheaded enough that when they came at me with a shot, I recoiled and told them I was pregnant. That seemed to send them into another flurry of activity, and before I knew it, I was on my back with cold gel being slapped onto my belly.

  “Would you like me to go get the father?” the nurse asked kindly.

  “No,” I said, tears filling my eyes.

  The ultrasound confirmed what the blood test would have. I was pregnant. My entire world came rushing back, reality in all its grim glory as I stared, weepy, at the tiny little peanut on the monitor.

  “I’d put you at seven to eight weeks,” the technician said. “Shall we see if we can hear the heartbeat?”

  I stared at the monitor a few moments longer, feeling slightly remorseful that Liam wasn’t here to see the first glimpse of his child.

  “Miss?” the technician said, glancing at me.

  I tore my eyes from the monitor. “Can we hear it?”

  “Usually, you can hear the heartbeat around eight weeks. We can try.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  Again, I felt guilty for doing this without Liam. But at the same time, I wanted to hear. I needed proof that the baby inside me was okay after everything that happened.

  It seemed to take forever. The silence stretched throughout the room as the wand moved around my belly. Anxiety started to fill my lungs and tighten my chest.

  What if something is wrong?

  Just as I was about to ask why there was no sound, I heard it.

  I gasped and glanced at the technician with wide, questioning eyes.

  He smiled. “There’s your baby.”

  “That’s my baby?” I repeated, awed.

  Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. It was kind of like an echo but consistent and strong.

  Tears burned the backs of my eyes. Seeing the blob on the monitor had been amazing. But hearing it? Having tangible proof that a piece of Liam was growing inside me?

  It was incredible.

  “How is he?” I worried. “Is the heartbeat okay?”

  The tech nodded. “Baby is just fine. Nice strong heartbeat. I’d say you’re definitely at least eight weeks.”

  “Can you print out a picture?” I asked, swiping the tears off my cheeks.

  A few seconds later, I was handed a black-and-white image filled with blobs. I wanted to be happy, so happy… but how I could I be?

  Minutes later, Liam’s angry snarl came from outside the partition, and in seconds, the curtain was ripped back to reveal his naked torso and glittering eyes.

  “Bells,” he rumbled, a great deal of tension visibly leaving him when his eyes found mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, slyly sliding the sonogram behind me.

  Liam glanced at the ultrasound equipment parked nearby. “What the fuck is all this? What’s wrong?” He rushed toward me, sweeping me against his chest.

  “I’m fine.” I assured him. “That was already here when I got here.”

  Behind him, the nurse made a face, and I prayed she wouldn’t rat me out.

  “Can you give us a minute?” Liam said, kind of snappy.

  She left without a backward glance.

  Liam grasped me gently, his eyes stoic and concerned. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured, pulling me against him.

  My cheek pillowed against the warm flesh of his chest. The steady, strong beat of his heart reduced me to tears.

  Hearing me sniffle, Liam drew back, swiping the tears away, and kissed my hairline. “What is it, baby?”

  I stared at the giant white bandage taped across his shoulder. “He shot you,” I murmured, grazing unsteady fingers over the edge.

  He caught my hand and kissed the fingers. “Bullet went clear through. It’s nothing serious.”

  “Ren?” I asked, my eyes seeking his.

  The gray dulled, and worry filled his face. “He’s still in surgery.”

  I started to cry. I thought I was numb, cried out even, but I guess I was wrong. Liam held me close while I washed his torso with tears and muffled my cries of grief with his strength.

  “Let me see you,” he murmured after a while, pulling me back and holding my face in his hands. “I need to look at you.”

  The gentle way his fingertips perused my face, grazing gently over the bruising, made me feel as if everything might actually be okay.

  “Liam?” I tipped my chin back, seeking his gaze.

  “Hmm?” He dropped a tender kiss against my lips.

  “Do you think it’s over?” I hated the way my voice wobbled.

  He gathered me close again. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

  “I killed a man.”

  “He wasn’t a man. He was an animal.”

  “Liam?” A woman’s frantic voice echoed nearby. “Liam Mattison?”

  “Mom,” he said, instantly rushing around the curtain. “Mom, I’m here.”

  “Oh, honey, what on earth is going on? They say your father is in surgery!”

  Liam wrapped an arm around his mother and glanced at me from the hall.

  Go, I mouthed, gesturing that he should be with her.

  He hesitated, clearly unsure what to do.

  She pulled back and gasped, seeing the bandage on his shoulder. “You’re hurt!”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Where’s Bellamy?”

  “I’m here,” I said, seeing the absolute way her life was crumbling around her just then, her son, her husband.

  All because of me.

  “Go see if there’s word on Ren.” I urged. “I’ll get dressed and join you.”

  Gripping Liam like a lifeline, his mother went off, frantic to find out how her lifelong love was faring.

  When they were gone, I pulled the curtain back around and ignored the protests in my body as I glanced around for my clothes.

  They were saturated with blood.

  I didn’t even have shoes.

  Leaving the clothes where they lay, I picked up the sonogram, eyes roaming over it. Carefully, I tucked it into my panties beneath the hospital gown because there was nowhere else to put it and left the cubicle in search of Liam.

  “Oh, Mrs. Mattison,”
a nurse said as I walked by. She called out again, and I turned, no idea that she’d been talking to me.

  She must have thought Liam and I were married.

  “Yes?”

  “Your father-in-law has just been moved to a private room. They sent us to tell the family.”

  Already?

  I glanced at the doctor standing a few feet behind her, a surgical mask pulled below his chin.

  “How is he?”

  “I’d rather talk to everyone at once,” the doctor said.

  I heard what he didn’t say. I felt the dread surrounding us all and pushed a hand over my mouth, swaying.

  “Oh!” The nurse caught me, offering a steadying hand. “Honey, he’s still alive. He’s in his room.”

  “I need to see him,” I begged. “Please.”

  “Where is his wife and son?” the doctor asked. I didn’t know how he could stand there so calmly while everything fell apart.

  “They went that way, trying to find answers,” I said, motioning down the hall.

  He started that way, and the nurse pulled me along.

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I need to see him. Now.”

  She glanced back toward the doctor, unsure.

  I squeezed her hand again. “He saved my life.”

  She nodded once and led me to his room. Hesitating at the door, she said, “He needs rest. Don’t upset him.”

  I nodded emphatically and stepped inside.

  The sound of monitors beeping filled the tomb-like room. The bed was in the center of the space, the curtains drawn, only the light of the hallway illuminating him. Ren looked small and ghostly against the hospital sheets. I was overcome with confusion and despair at how a man like him could look so… frail.

  My steps slowed to a near crawl, even though I felt like running to his side. I glanced back at the door, suddenly feeling as though this wasn’t my place. The first to see him should be his wife and son. I shouldn’t be here without them.

  I started back toward the door, planning to wait in the hall.

  A sound came from the vicinity of the bed, and I stopped, turning back.

  He made the sound again, and one of his fingers moved.

  “Ren?” I said. “Ren, can you hear me?”

  He made a sound again, and I rushed to his side. Carefully, I took his hand, wrapping both of mine around it. His skin was cold, his fingers bony.

  “Holly and Liam are on their way up. They’ll be here in just a minute.”

  His eyes blinked open, and he focused on me.

  I couldn’t keep the tears at bay. They slid one after another down my cheeks, and I pretended they weren’t even there. “You saved my life,” I said, unable to keep the words in. “You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me.”

  He made another sound.

  I squeezed his hand gently. “I wish you wouldn’t have done that. But thank you. Thank you so much for saving my life.”

  “Son… l-loves you,” he rasped, each word a struggle.

  I swallowed and leaned down to kiss his head, then lay my cheek against his. “I’m pregnant,” I confided.

  A sound of surprise but also of joy erupted out of him. I pulled back and gazed down at him. His eyes sought mine.

  I nodded. “You didn’t save me today. You saved your grandchild.”

  A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and I brushed it away. “You’re the first to know,” I whispered.

  He glanced down toward my stomach, so I stepped back a little so he could see. “It’s still early.” I cautioned. “I’m not showing yet.”

  He lifted his hand, shaking with the effort.

  Knowing what he intended, I lifted it and pressed it against my stomach.

  “Love,” he said, his eyes bright as he looked at where his hand lay.

  I nodded.

  “Take care… of… them.”

  I leaned forward over him. “I will, but you will, too. It’s not your time yet.” My chest began squeezing, closing off like it was being crushed.

  “Dad?” Liam said from the doorway.

  “Ren!” Holly cried and rushed through the door to his side. He turned his head toward her, a smile on his lips.

  I stepped away from the bed and felt Liam’s stare. “The nurse led me here,” I explained. “I was going to wait for you, but he was awake…” I gazed back at the man who’d saved my life. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

  On his way past me, Liam linked our hands. “Thank you.”

  Holly was crying, and Ren was trying to reassure her. Liam stood stoically at his side. I could feel the tension and grief wave off him like a tsunami.

  I slinked back into the curtain, wanting to give this family time to grieve, time to say good-bye.

  Liam

  We saw the doctor coming before he even looked in our direction. Mom would have fallen in her haste to get to him had it not been for the hold I kept on her.

  “How is he?” she asked, pleading for good news.

  “Mrs. Mattison?”

  “Yes,” Mom said impatiently. “How is my husband?”

  “There is no easy way to say this.” He began, and Mom nearly collapsed right there.

  “No,” she keened, and it was the most helpless I’d felt in my entire life. My throat was bone dry, my eyes gritty with sand and regret. The only thing that kept me on my feet was sheer will.

  “He’s still alive,” the doctor hastened to say.

  Mom perked up. The horrible sounds she was making ceased. I didn’t feel any better because I knew. I knew deep down in my gut that this man had no good news.

  “He is?”

  The doctor nodded once. “Unfortunately, we weren’t able to go ahead with the surgery,” he explained and glanced at his clipboard. “The patient—”

  “His name is Renshaw,” I growled.

  My father was more than a patient. More than a piece of paper. More.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Renshaw. I see he is terminally ill… the cancer having spread quite widely throughout his body.”

  I swallowed.

  “Given that and the recent loss of blood, he wouldn’t survive the kind of operation he requires.”

  “So we wait?” Mom said. “Until he’s stronger?”

  The doctor cleared his throat again, and for a nanosecond, I felt bad for the man. “I’m afraid he doesn’t have much time. We’ve moved him into a room and are keeping him comfortable. But I would recommend going and saying your good-byes.”

  The doctor’s words hit like being shot all over again. I’d known my father was living on borrowed time. I just had no idea that it would run out this fast.

  “I want to see him!” my mother demanded. “Right now!”

  A nurse came forward and led the way. The entire time we followed, I felt I was being brought to a firing squad. I had no idea what I would see when we walked into his room. I had no idea how I would hold it together.

  I didn’t expect him to be awake. I didn’t expect Bells to be standing there holding his hand. Seeing them like that, seeing him living in the moment, gave me a spark of hope.

  I didn’t know which was worse. A spark of hope or the darkness that followed when the spark burned out.

  Mom rushed into the room, right to his side, and as I watched her, my heart deflated.

  “I love you,” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

  “My love,” Dad answered, his voice so incredibly weak.

  Mom climbed onto the bed, fitting herself alongside him, gently draping her arm over his middle. I almost turned away. It felt invasive to be here. It felt way too hard.

  “Son,” Dad mumbled, and I let go of the hold I had on Bellamy.

  “Right here, Dad.” I promised, leaning close so he could see me.

  “Too hard on you,” he said, pausing to take a breath between each word.

  “Never.” I assured him, suddenly feeling overwhelming regret our “last” talk had been sort of an argument. “Yo
u have always been exactly what I needed,” I said, hoping to put his mind at ease, wanting him to know I respected him.

  “Live… your… dreams,” Dad implored.

  The grit in my eyes washed away as tears flooded them. “I will. I swear.”

  Dad lifted his hand, and I went down, hugging both him and my mother for what would become the last family embrace we would ever have.

  “No regrets,” Dad whispered. “Bell—”

  I reached out behind me, motioning for Bells. She came, and I pulled her down to be part of the embrace.

  “I love you all,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering closed.

  “Ren!” Mom worried, lifting her head.

  He smiled. “Just resting, love.”

  I listened to the sound of his labored breathing for a while, none of us daring to move an inch.

  I sensed my father’s eyes fluttering open and lifted my head.

  His stare was slightly unfocused and sort of glassy, but I could have sworn he looked into mine. “Take care of them… especially him.”

  Him? Did he mean her? Mom?

  “I promise.” I vowed.

  A look of pure peace came over him, and his eyes flickered closed.

  They didn’t reopen.

  Bellamy

  We stayed with the body until the staff ordered us out.

  It was hard to walk away, hard to say good-bye, even harder to see how completely shattered Liam and his mother were.

  This was my fault.

  He won’t look at me.

  I was no longer his second chance, the girl who got away. I was the woman who came back and shattered his world, bringing death and pain.

  I should have run. I never should have promised to stay. I thought about the duffle out in the hallway. I doubted he would even try and stop me if I tried to leave.

  I was nothing but a painful memory now, a visual reminder that his father was dead.

  I knew all too well what it was like to lose a father. It was something you never quite healed from.

  I shouldn’t stay.

  I couldn’t go.

  My body wasn’t just mine any longer. It was Liam’s, too.

  How was I going to tell him? What on earth would he say?

  I was the woman who killed his father—but also the woman who would make him one.